“I’ll see you tonight.” He cheerfully sauntered into the master bedroom, and emerged twenty seconds later with a room key in hand. I stood there, arms crossed, feeling rather silly in my plush robe and wet hair, and watched as he winked at me and left the room. The door shut quietly behind him.
Fuck. That just made it pretty freaking clear who had the upper hand. I flopped down on the sofa to lament my woes, and then grabbed my cell off the coffee table and punched in Olivia’s number.
She answered on the second ring. “Please tell me you’re alive and safe.”
“Very alive and pretty safe,” I teased.
“Having a good time?”
I wandered through the suite and pondered her question. “Pretty good. We didn’t do much last night, just checked in and went to bed.” I decided to leave out my hysterical crying fit.
“Bed? Or bed?”
I giggled. “Just normal bed, Olivia. He has been a gentleman, and we have a two-room suite.” Not that the second room has been used.
“So you slept separately?”
“Yes. Kind of. There was some cuddling.”
“Wow. You are so wild and crazy,” she monotoned. “Cuddling? On the second date? Becca would tear you a new asshole if she heard this.”
The room phone rang, and I glanced over my shoulder and frowned at it.
“Olivia? I’ll call you later.”
Seventeen
I looked at the phone, unsure of whether I should answer it or not. Finally, I bit the bullet and picked up the receiver. It was the concierge, confirming our 7:00 p.m. dinner reservation at Prime. I hung up the phone and sat back down at the table. Munching on a few breakfast potatoes, mulling over my day, I decided to hit the hotel pool and then spend the afternoon at the spa. I fingered the card that Brad had left and dialed Philipe’s extension.
A male voice answered on the second ring, stiff and businesslike. It warmed dramatically when I identified myself. “Ms. Campbell! How can I help you?”
“I was thinking about going to the spa this afternoon. Could you help me to book some services?”
“Certainly. Just let me know what services you would like.”
“I was thinking about a massage?”
“Julia, in Vegas, you need to go big. Let me put you down for a full treatment. Make that beautiful man treat you right.”
I smiled into the receiver. “You’re the boss, Philipe.”
“Shall I put you down for one o’clock?”
“That would be perfect. Thank you.” I was preparing to hang up when he spoke again.
“What are you doing between now and one?”
“I was going to go to the pool.”
He clicked his tongue into the receiver. “You don’t want to go to the hotel’s pool. It is a zoo. Give me a call when you’re ready, and I’ll have someone escort you to our VIP pool.”
“You rock.”
I could hear his smile. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”
“Talk to you soon.” I hung up the phone and moseyed to the bedroom, flipping on the clock radio when I got to the room. My outlook had brightened considerably after speaking to Philipe. Why was I pissed to spend the day alone? I pushed a few of the presets until I found a top-forty station. I turned up the volume and walked into the closet, unzipping my suitcase and flipping it open. I had only packed one bathing suit, an electric-blue bikini. I dropped my robe and stepped into the suit bottoms, tightening the side ties. A Rihanna song started on the radio and I sang and danced my way into the bathroom. I brushed my teeth again, then applied some waterproof mascara and lip gloss. My hair was still damp, so I ran a big comb through it and pulled it into a low knot. Becca had loaned me a sheer white cover-up, and I took it and my bikini top out of my suitcase. I put them both on and picked up the bathroom phone. I dialed Philipe’s extension.
“Already ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Someone will be there shortly.”
“Thanks.”
Five minutes later, as I was pulling on a pair of bejeweled sandals, there was a knock at the door. I grabbed the bag I had packed, complete with tanning spray, magazines and a white hotel towel, and went to the door. An attractive blonde in a gray suit stood there and flashed a friendly smile.
“You Julia?”
“I am!” I reached out my hand, and she shook it.
“I’m Rayne. Philipe asked me to show you to Cypress. You ready?”
“I am. Let’s go.”
Rayne kept up a steady stream of chatter as we traversed the halls, elevator and four different buildings. I was grateful she was there and more than a little worried about finding my way back. Finally, we arrived at a pool entrance, which was roped off with a line of people waiting to enter. She breezed by the line and waved at the security guard. She pulled me with her by the hand, moving through throngs of people until we arrived at a white cabana with linen curtains. We ducked inside and I saw a couch, television and wet bar, a wicker basket next to the couch with sun oils, magazines and towels. The wet bar had a bowl of fresh fruit and an ice bucket with bottled waters, sodas, beers and mixers. In front of the cabana, in a roped-off area, were two chaise lounges, ready with additional towels and pillows.
I flopped down on the couch and smiled blissfully at Rayne.
She laughed and crossed her arms. “I take it this is acceptable?”
“Girl, you are gonna have to drag me out of here!”
She laughed and took the seat next to me on the couch. “I wish I could stay here and relax, but I have a whale up in Privé that is dying to grab my ass again. If you need anything, Dmitry will get it for you.”
“Who’s Dmitry?”
“Oh, you’ll see.” She winked teasingly and sauntered off. I looked around the cabana and grinned to myself. I set my useless bag down on the floor and unzipped my cover-up. Pulling the garment over my head, I tightened my bikini strings and then started looking at the oils in the basket.
“Hello.” A gorgeous blond stuck his head in, then the rest of his body followed, wearing a tight white Bellagio polo and short white shorts. A little too short. My suspicions were confirmed when he stood up in the cabana and sashayed rather than strode over to me. The man’s features were Ken-doll perfect, and he had gleaming white teeth. I assumed this was Dmitry. “Ms. Campbell, I am Dmitry,” he confirmed with a Russian lilt, something I’d never heard from a gay man before.
I stood up, smiling, and shook his hand. “Hi, Dmitry.”
“Would you like me to spread some lotion on you?”
I blushed, and nodded. Twenty minutes later, I was stretched out on one of the outside chaise lounges, earbuds in, listening to Beyoncé, a frozen hot-pink drink next to me. My body was glistening with coconut oil, which Dmitry swore was the crack cocaine of tanning products. My hair was twisted up and had been sprayed lightly with an SPF protectant and moisturizing treatment, and I had a stack of chilled towels in a silver ice chest next to me. Dmitry had wanted to put cucumbers on my eyelids, but I had drawn the line at that. Every ten minutes, fans above me sent cool mists of moistened air down to me. In total bliss, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Dmitry woke me up, shaking my arm gently. “Ms. Campbell.” I blinked sleepily and tried to focus on his beautiful face. “I was told you have a 1:00 p.m. spa appointment. It is eleven-forty. Would you like me to order you some lunch?” I had fully woken by then, and nodded. Stretching, I removed my earbuds.
“Hot dog and fries, if they have it.”
Dmitry’s face took on a look, as if he had eaten something bad. “A hot dog?”
I grinned at him. “Not fancy enough for you?”
His pained look answered my question. “I suppose you’ll be wanting a chocolate milk to drink?”
“No,
smart-ass, a lemonade would be great.” I batted my eyes at him sweetly. “Please?”
“Your wish is my command,” he said, mock bowing.
“Thank you, dahling.”
I decided an hour on my back was long enough and flipped over, lying on my stomach. A band had started playing poolside and I decided against the earbuds, pulling them out and undoing my bikini top. I balled it up and put it next to my chair, lying back down. Dmitry reappeared, my lemonade in hand, and frowned at me.
“You need a pillow—let me get you one.” He strutted over to a wicker chest and bent over, opening it. Seconds later he had a small white pillow in his hand; he positioned it for me, fluffing it dramatically first. “It’ll be about fifteen minutes on your...snack. I’ll bring it over as soon as it’s ready.”
I nodded, feeling the warm sun on my bare back, already starting to doze. I dreamed of being on a crowded street. It was hot and muggy, and I was being bumped in all directions. I finally escaped into an oyster bar and ordered a dozen raw ones. But the more oysters I ate, the more appeared, and I began to stress over the mounting pile. I had just called for the—
“What the hell are you doing?” The voice was loud enough to wake me, and I jolted out of my dream. I opened my eyes and saw only terry-cloth white—the cushion of my chaise. The voice had been deep, and sexy, and...Brad. I rolled over and saw him standing over me, hands on his hips, looking down on me with an expression of mock irritation. I saw his eyes wander to my bare breasts and I raised my hands quickly to cover them. “What?”
“A hot dog?” His eyes flashed with humor, but he kept his stern expression. “I’m dropping ten K an hour at the blackjack table, they are instructed to wine and dine you to subliminal bliss, and you’re ordering a hot dog and fries?”
He sat next to me on the chaise lounge. I had to slide over in order to accommodate him. I still had both hands cupping my breasts, and he reached over with one hand and traced a line on my skin down the center of my chest. My breathing quickened. He pulled down one of my hands, then the other, leaving me completely exposed. I pulled my hands back up, looking around quickly to see if anyone had noticed. They had. One guy gave me a thumbs-up. Great.
“Don’t cover them up,” Brad said. “They’re beautiful. I want to see them.”
God, he is hard to say no to. “No!” I hissed.
“Why?”
“I don’t flash my tits around. Besides, they’re little.”
“I fucking love them. They’re perfect. Let me see them, Julia. Please.”
I rolled my eyes and cursed him under my breath for being so damn irresistible, and for having the power to control my damn actions. I dropped my hands and he dropped his eyes, drinking in the sight of me bare and exposed. “God, baby.” He shook his head, running his hand lightly over my stomach, my skin tightening at his touch.
Dmitry chose that moment to reappear and I blushed. He didn’t give me a second glance, just stared at Brad, his expression adoring. Yeah, buddy, I feel your pain. “Hi, Mr. De Luca,” he purred. Brad nodded at him, smiled and then focused back on me. Dmitry started straightening up the cabana, all the while looking over at Brad. I guess his magnetism didn’t limit itself to women.
Brad leaned forward and kissed me, putting his hand on my right breast and squeezing it gently.
“Brad!” I pushed him back and swatted his hand away.
“What?”
“You can’t grope me in public! Me being topless is bad enough!” I looked around furtively.
“Did I mention the amount of money I’m spending? I could fuck you right here on this chair and they wouldn’t say anything.” My jaw dropped, and despite my best effort I could feel my pussy practically pant with anticipation. He leaned down and kissed me again, keeping his hand to himself this time, then leaned forward and whispered in my ear. “Let them all look. It turns me on when men drool over you.” I frowned, trying to think of an intelligent response, when he kissed my neck and rose, looking around for Dmitry. The man practically sprinted to his side and beamed enthusiastically.
“Is her lunch ready?”
“Yes, sir, they’re bringing it now. Can I get you anything to eat?”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Oh-kay. You be sure and let me know.”
Brad leaned over and lightly brushed his hand over my nipples, making me shiver. Feeling braver, I bit my lower lip and stared at him. He froze, his eyes flashing at me, and then he gave a slow grin. He kissed my cheek and then whispered in my ear. “Your body is killing me. I want to take you up to the room right now.” I gave a slow smile in response and rolled over. I pretended to adjust and get comfortable on the lounge, pushing my ass up teasingly. He groaned and grabbed my ass with his hand, squeezing hard. Releasing it, he then gave it a hard slap—so hard I yelped. I lowered my ass and lay down flat, glaring at him over my shoulder. He chuckled.
“Have a nice day, baby. Enjoy your damn hot dog. Order a second if you’re feeling really crazy.”
I growled at him through the terry cloth.
Eighteen
6:15 p.m.
I sat in the spacious master bathroom, putting on makeup at the counter seat. The spa had been wonderful. I got a ninety-minute Swedish massage, a facial and a mani-pedi. I showered at the spa and left feeling deliriously relaxed and polished. The radio played from the bedroom, and I sang along while I blow-dried and straightened my hair.
I debated calling Olivia back, but there was too much to discuss and I didn’t know when Brad would be returning. I also wasn’t ready for her questions.
I didn’t know how I felt about Brad. Half the time he pissed me off with his arrogance and sexual misdoings, and the rest of the time I wanted to shove him down and rip his clothes off. I was used to being the aggressor, to being in control of the relationship. That wasn’t going to be possible with Brad. But then again, a relationship wasn’t a possibility anyway.
Having only had sex with two guys, the prospect of Brad being the third scared me. What did it say about me if I had sex with someone that I sometimes didn’t even like, much less love? What had been the point of my waiting until I was nineteen for sex if I was just going to jump into bed with strangers now?
I dusted nude shadow on my eyelids and then reached for the bronze. I couldn’t resist the incredible attraction I felt for Brad. I wasn’t naive enough to think that this animal attraction was something just the two of us shared. I could see the look in every passing woman, in every waitress, room attendant and grandma that walked by. I remembered this morning’s orgasm, and a twinge of pleasure zipped through my lower body. I wanted, even needed to have sex with him. I couldn’t remember ever wanting to have sex with anyone unless it was to show my love and to preserve a relationship. Sex with Brad would be different—dangerous, passionate and...and...I didn’t know what to do.
I blinked and looked in the mirror, examining my eyes. They looked good. Adult, sophisticated and sexy. I leaned forward to apply a second coat of mascara. I was just about ready.
I was in a lace bra and panties, had slipped on some heels for the hell of it, and was spritzing on perfume when Brad walked in. His grin widened, and he walked into the bathroom and leaned against the door, whistling under his breath. He must have come up and changed at some point during the day. He now wore a white button-down shirt with dress pants and a jacket.
“Not the outfit I would have expected for dinner, but you look mighty fine, Ms. Campbell.”
I sauntered over and placed both hands on his lapel, pulling him gently to me and kissing him on the lips. “Very funny, smart-ass. I’ll be dressed in a minute.”
He grinned wickedly. “I’ll watch. Want a glass of wine? I can grab some out of the wine cooler.”
“No, thanks.”
He stayed in his position, arms crossed, and watched m
e as I went into the walk-in closet and shut the door. Becca had blessed me with three different dresses, all ridiculously short and sparkly. According to Becca, everyone in Vegas glittered. From what I had seen so far, she was right. I grabbed a nude strapless minidress that sparkled when the light hit it, paired it with my highest stilettos and rubbed some lotion on my legs. Fluffing my hair, I prepared to make my grand entrance to Brad. Swinging open the doors dramatically, I put on my sexiest pout and walked out. To an empty bathroom. Cool, Julia. Really cool.
Shaky on the plush carpet in my ridiculously high heels, I made it to the living room without turning an ankle and sat in the first chair that I came to. Brad whistled at my wobbly entrance and let his eyes linger on my legs, tanned and freshly shaved. I pretended to glare at him. I had worked pretty damn hard to look this hot and was glad it was getting the proper attention. He walked to my chair and leaned over, placing his hands on the armrests on either side of me. His scent invaded me and I got wet just from smelling it. That, and his beautiful face, and those dark, sexy eyes with their thick lashes. He nudged my legs apart with one knee and moved it in a bit, his dress pants scratchy against my smooth skin. His mouth so close to mine, he brushed my lips sweetly and then moved to my ear.
“I want to fuck you in that dress.”
I inhaled sharply, his knee moving farther in between mine. Fuck dinner and the damn show. I want him right now, right here in this suede chair. I leaned my head back, and he nuzzled, nipped, then kissed my neck. I smiled. “Want to skip dinner?”
His eyes lidded as he shook his head. “A man’s gotta eat. Plus—” he moved his hands from the armrests to my waist and lifted me to my feet as though I weighed nothing “—you’ll need fuel for tonight’s activities.” He nuzzled my neck again and squeezed my ass. Hard. I loved it.
I pasted an innocent look on my face. “What, the Cirque du Soleil show?”
“Get your ass out the door,” he growled, smacking me.
We arrived at Prime a few minutes before seven. Brad stopped just outside the restaurant, reaching into his pocket to answer his ringing cell. I wandered to the side, seeing a balcony with a view of the lake. Just then I heard something, a few soft, haunting notes. Brad tapped my shoulder and I turned. “Out,” he whispered, the phone still pressed to his ear. “On the balcony. Watch the fountains.” I made my way to the balcony and leaned on the heavy marble railing, the water starting to move in front of me. The music began again, softly and then increasing in volume until every note was clear and beautiful. The fountains increased with the music, swelling and falling, thousands of different jets under the lake creating a beautiful dance that made my heart ache. I stood there, transfixed and swept away by the perfect harmony, as the last note lingered on the lake.